Done, and Undone
by ibelieveintruelove
Summary: She hated what he had done, what he had chosen, what he had become. But most of all, she hated that she would always love him. An AU one-shot of Padme's thoughts on her husband.


Disclaimer: I own nothing; Star Wars belongs to George Lucas

A/N: Just a bit of AU drabble about Padmé, set after the events of ROTS. Enjoy!

Done, And Undone

By: ibelieveintruelove

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Everything was done. Her death certificate was filed and her funeral had been performed. Her children had been sent away from her and were now safely living, with whom she did not know, but they were away from her, which meant they at least had a chance. She had her refugee papers, a new name, and an entire background story. She had memorized all her lines and was certain that she could give a stellar performance. Everything was hidden and buried and covered up and just waiting to be revealed.

But Padmé couldn't wait that long. She didn't want to wait that long. She wanted to be reunited with her children now, not decades from now when she would mean nothing to them. She wanted the Empire to be overthrown today, so that the honest, just senators could start rebuilding the once great Republic, and democracy could once again be known throughout the galaxy.

But most importantly, she wanted her husband back. She wanted the little boy she had met on Tatooine to come bounding into the room with a smile on his face and a smudge of dirt on his nose. She wanted her tall, handsome Jedi protector to stroll in with a cocky grin and a witty comment and a kiss for his angel. She wanted her savior and her love to take her in his arms and tell her that it had all been a horrible dream, a terrific nightmare, and that it was time to wake up now.

But she couldn't wake up. Not from this. Because this was her reality now: a universe without freedom, without her children, and without Anakin. A universe where, according to official records, Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo had died in a violent crash at the medical base on Polis Massa. A universe where she was forced to answer to a foreign name, to live in a strange place, and to pretend to be something that she was not.

Yet she had to admit, pretending was so much easier than facing the facts. Because the facts were that Chancellor Palpatine had always been a Sith Lord in disguise, and she had fell for the act. The fact was that the Republic had fallen and while some were still fighting, she had given up. The fact was that she had watched Bail and Obi-Wan take her children away from her, "for their own safety," and she had let them. The fact was that her beloved husband had fell for the lie, had succumbed to the temptation of power, and she had lost him. Forever.

No. No, he was not gone. She knew it. She had to believe that there was still a chance. If she didn't believe it, then she no longer would have any reason to live. Anakin had been her reason to fight, to survive, for so long; he had been the wonderful thought that kept her going through the day, and the comforting presence who had visited her in the night. He had been the cause of her worry and her joy, her anxiety and her bliss. And to deny all that she was, all that he was, all that they had been, was to her perhaps the most horrible thing that this war had ever forced her to do.

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She could honestly say that she had tried. She had gone to the planet Obi-Wan had picked out, told the story that Bail had created for her. She'd gotten a job and kept to herself, just like they had told her to. But as the days passed Padmé found herself spending her nights sleepless and lonely, thinking of her children and her husband, of what had happened and what might have been done to stop it. She thought of all the horrible things Anakin had done in the name of love, of his overpowering rage and hate and of the look in his yellow Sith eyes when he had choked her.

And she found that she hated what he had done. She hated that he had given in to the Dark Side, that he had sided with Palpatine, and that he had become the one thing that he had sworn to destroy. She hated that he killed Jedi, that he killed whoever he was told to, and that he did it without question. She hated that he had been proclaimed the Emperor's right hand and the hero of the Empire, when he was the farthest thing from it. She hated that it was the decisions made by her husband, _her husband_, the man who was supposed to always love and protect her, that had left her alone in the universe, separated from everyone she had ever known, separated from their _children_.

But most of all, she hated that, despite everything that had happened, she still loved him. She still missed him. She still needed him, just as desperately as she always had, if not more.

So when she packed up her things and left her pretend life, she told herself that she was going to save the Republic. She told herself that she would infiltrate the Empire as the wife of the Emperor's second-in-command and work to protect the innocents of the galaxy from Palpatine and the Empire as best as she could. She told herself that she was going to save her children, her darling Luke and Leia, by reporting their deaths and distracting Palpatine and her husband from ever looking for them. She told herself she was going to save her husband, from Palpatine, from the Dark Side, and from himself, because only she could truly bring Anakin back to the light.

But Padmé knew that when she packed up her things and headed to Coruscant for an audience with Lord Vader, she was really saving herself.

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End file.
